


Cognitive Closure

by Loafas_Lawyer



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Not A Happy Ending, boiler room gang rise up, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24404482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loafas_Lawyer/pseuds/Loafas_Lawyer
Summary: "I'll hold onto your glove," Akira says in lieu of an answer. And, for a moment, it feels like enough.Undefined. It's a good word to describe what Akira and Akechi had, could've had, and everything in between.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Kudos: 52





	Cognitive Closure

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to Wasteland, Baby! on repeat from one am to five am while writing a bunch of akeshu fics and this is one that happened. 
> 
> im so sorry

Akira doesn't know what to do. 

Akira stands between his teammates and that partition wall. He stands where the wall met the ground, where the metal slots into metal. He stands, stoic to his teammates but in reality, he doesn't think he's ever felt so much and so little simultaneously. He's unsure of where his feelings begin, of where they end. He's feeling too much. Every nerve is alight, going haywire like a sparking power-line over a flooded intersection. It's too much, yet it's so little, so insignificant compared to his team's desperate pleads. He could very well be not feeling anything at all. 

The voices of his teammates melded with the static ringing in his ears. He couldn't tell where their voices began, and where they ended. No definitive start, and no foreseeable end. Just. Voices. Pleading, crying. It feels like he's watching through someone else's eyes when Ryuji punches the water-tight barrier with a shout and turns to Morgana and Futaba desperately for something Akira cannot hear, cannot see. Their frantic exchange is lost to the adrenaline-filled blood rushing by his eardrums. He doesn't really comprehend Ann's silent crying. Doesn't understand Yusuke's pained face. Sees, but doesn't comprehend Haru squeezing Makoto's hand, both faces tense and drawn. 

"You guys are truly beyond my comprehension." A wet cough is muffled through the door. Akira feels his heart sink. "You should've just left me here." 

"Like hell we'd do that!" Ryuji says vehemently. "Damn it, Mona! How do we get this open!?" 

Morgana is just as distraught. "I don't know!" 

Akechi just laughs, hollow but accepting, as he says, "Hey, Akira... Make a deal with me, would you?" 

The sadness plaguing Akechi's tone kick-starts his heart into beating. He's sad, but there's power in his voice. A strength that proves he's going to fight until his last dying breath. For some reason, Akira knows exactly what he's going to ask. Akechi lost the battle, but he _will_ win the war. He has faith that Akira will carry through for him. 

Akira hears him. He does, but his mind is stuck, and Akira remains ensnared by the reluctance to allow this to be their finale. This is no true conclusion; Akechi would never know if his goal came to fruition, would never know if Akira could carry through such a task. It's difficult to accept, it's just all so...

Undefined. Akira doesn't want to acknowledge that this is going to be their end when they haven't even had their beginning. He doesn't want this to be the way their justice ends; not when there is still so much between them without definition. There's much they needed to talk about, much to confirm. 

"I'll hold onto your glove," Akira says in lieu of an answer. And, for a moment, it feels like enough. 

And Akechi just laughs, quiet and surprised. Fondly, he says, "Even after all this time, you still manage to find a way to surprise me." His voice turns hard and determined as he says, "Go. End his crimes... In my stead." 

There's more shouting, and a fire builds up in Akira's eyes and throat that he can't allow to burn yet. He has to be the strong one, has to be the statue that refuses to fall even as leagues of water buffet against him in a drowning world. His teammates allow their fires to burn, and Ann's burns so bright it spills over her eyes as she begs Morgana and Akira to do something, _anything_. 

Unwillingly, a few embers spark from his eyes. 

Two gunshots ring out. It's the most definitive sound he's ever heard. 

His body _moves_ without his mind registering it, and it feels like breaking free of the stone casing that imprisoned him, feels like going against the powerful waves pushing against his skull. He hauled himself up over the railing, jumping down to the metal pipes to get to a door, a duct, or something that would--

"Joker! A vent on your left!" Futaba calls, and he doesn't hesitate in slipping through it. It leads to a hallway just outside of the door to the boiler room, and he tears through the hall faster than he's ever moved in his life, praying that Akechi is still standing, still leaning against the partition. Maybe the wall would go down from the other side, and he would be able to save Akechi, maybe it wouldn't be too late. _Please_ don't let it be too late. Akechi can't die that easily; he's too smart, he's too cunning, too ambitious, too... _everything_. 

Akira throws himself through the door to the boiler room, and he finally stops. He chokes on his breath.

He slides down next to Akechi, seizing his limp body to his chest to cradle him. He slips off the broken, demonic mask gingerly only to throw it aside carelessly with a loud metal clang. Akira seeks comfort in the crook of the other boy's neck, feeling far too young, far too immature to deal with the fact that the one person he cares so desperately about is dying far too soon right in front of him. Despite his best efforts, the fire inside of him screams to life and leaks from his eyes, licking his cheeks. 

Akechi draws a sharp breath, and Akira leans back to look into the fluttering eyes of the boy he considers a rival, a friend, _something more_. Akechi has always been something more. Something undefined, something worth the promise of a thousand weighted glances and sweet nothings. Someone worth a million back-and-forths, endearments and borderline flirts. Something unmentioned, something _undefined_. And until now, Akira had been okay with that. They'd get there eventually, one of them would break the unspoken rules _eventually_. 

They didn't. And now they never will. The idea of living without someone as incredible as Akechi Goro was absolutely _daunting_.

Akechi lets out a sharp exhale, something that Akira cannot name passing over his features, but it causes Akira's breath to hitch in his throat. It's hard to breathe, like smoke burning his lungs. "You're...crying over me?" 

Akira burries his face into the dying boy's hair, unable to stop but unwilling to show it. 

Akechi shakes and inhales sharply once more, and Akira doesn't have to look to know he's crying, too. He can feel the sobs wrack Akechi's weak frame. 

"Akechi, I'm so sorry." 

"Goro." 

Red, insisting eyes meet gunmetal ones. They leave no room for argument. 

"I'm sorry, Goro," Akira chokes out. 

One of Goro's hands find his and squeeze tightly. It's worth a thousand words. 

"It's not your fault," Goro breathes. "You don't need to be sorry." 

Akira couldn't speak. There's nothing he could say that wouldn't involve his past failures. Goro didn't need to hear him mourn over what could've been--what _they_ could've been, should've been--because Akira holds Goro close and never lets go of his hand. Goro knows. Akira knows. That's enough for them. 

This is different from anything he's ever had to deal with. He can't do _anything_ about this. The one person he's wanted, everything he's ever loved, all in his hands and he can't do a damn thing about it. Even now, as the boy he adores loses his life slowly. 

Akira holds Goro until the light leaves his eyes and his grip loosens permanently. 

And as Akira pulls Goro up into his arms, holding him securely against his chest, the fire inside him snuffs out to leave sharp, cold icicles that needle into his sternum and steal the breath from his lungs. Everything is frozen, albeit temporarily, but it allows him to define what remained undefinable in the heat of the moment. 

When it thaws, it's going burn brighter than it ever has. It's going to be raging, destructive. 

And Shido is going to pay for taking the one thing Akira had left to lose.

**Author's Note:**

> dw ill work on something where i spend more time writing and i dont fuckign kill goro hfkdshfj;
> 
> sorry if this is bad i just,,, had feelings after akechi fight and i have no excuse for myself lmao


End file.
